


#DeletedScenes

by mrs_d



Series: #SayIDo [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/F, F/M, Flirting, Fluff and Smut, Getting Together, Hook-Up, M/M, POV Multiple
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-16
Updated: 2017-02-21
Packaged: 2018-08-15 06:27:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8045782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrs_d/pseuds/mrs_d
Summary: A collection of scenes and one-shots in the #SayIDo universe.





	1. Different But Not (183 Days Before)

**Author's Note:**

> Note that the tags (relationships, characters, and others) will increase as more chapters are added. The order of the chapters will likely change as well.
> 
> Update [11-26-2016]: Chapter order modified. Bucky's chapter is now chapter 3 instead of chapter 2, to fit with the larger chronology.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam/Steve post-proposal sex scene.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set in chapter 2, "The Proposal," immediately after Sam and Steve finish dinner. Rated E.

Through sheer force of will, Steve managed to hold himself back until they were out of the restaurant, away from the public eye. But as soon as they got back to HQ, the instant the elevator doors closed behind them, he broke, whirling and pinning Sam against the wall, crushing their bodies and mouths together.

Sam laughed in surprise, but kissed back, surging forward against Steve’s hold and reaching between them to palm Steve’s cock through the fabric of his pants. Steve hissed at the sensation, his lips becoming sloppy and uncoordinated.

“Hey, fiancé,” Sam said, soft and low against Steve’s cheek. “Think I can bring you off before we get to our floor?”

Steve couldn’t help the little zing of happiness that ran through him at Sam calling him that. He tried to speak, to say it back, but all that came out was a half-strangled groan. Because Sam had torn down his zipper and slipped his hand inside, and— oh, _God_ , Steve could feel Sam’s ring, a new addition to Sam’s familiar touch, a brush of something cooler, harder, that changed the whole feel of Sam’s grip and reminded Steve that he was Sam’s, and Sam was his.

“What was that?” asked Sam innocently, even as his strokes became firmer and faster, as he thumbed the leaking slit, making Steve cross-eyed and weak at the knees. “What’d you say, baby?”

“Not gonna— _unf._ Stop you,” Steve mumbled at last.

He’d no sooner got the words out when Sam shifted, massaging the head of Steve’s cock with the heel of his hand, the way he would with his tongue, and the contrast between what Steve had — the rough drag of damp fabric — and what Steve wanted — the warm, wet slide of Sam’s mouth — was enough to have him thrusting forward, shoving at Sam as best he could through the layers of their clothes.

“Mm, that’s good,” Sam murmured, his words hot breath in Steve’s ear, even as his teeth and tongue played with the skin there. “Think about it: I take the edge off now, we can take our time for round two, I maybe get my mouth on this—” he squeezed Steve’s cock again “—get it in me, what do you say?”

Steve moaned — he wanted it, he wanted everything, he craved their slick skin pressed together, Sam naked below him, around him, his cologne mingling with their sweat and the musk of sex in their bed. He wanted to get his hands on Sam, tease him, make him feel good, make him—

Sam bit down on his earlobe then, just hard enough to hurt. Just like it was what Steve’s body had been waiting for, the pleasure rushed through him all at once, lighting him up from the tips of his toes to the ends of his hair. It was over just as fast, and he was left gasping at Sam’s shoulder, clutching him tight.

A moment later, Sam kissed his neck and slid back; Steve shivered at the cool air on his damp skin. He braced himself against the wall, wincing a little as he tucked himself away, and Sam wiped his fingers on his shirt.

“Sorry,” Steve mumbled. “I’ll do the laundry this week.”

Sam chuckled as he pulled away. “Damn right you will. I’m not gonna be your housewife.”

Steve closed his eyes and exhaled with a smile. “Wouldn’t want you to.”

He heard Sam move away, and suddenly the floor lurched beneath their feet.

“What the—?” said Steve. “We weren’t moving?”

“Neither of us hit the button,” Sam replied with a grin. “I was gonna tell you, but you seemed to have other things on your mind.”

Steve felt his cheeks flush, embarrassed for getting so messy so quickly. “Oh...”

“Aw, don’t be shy,” said Sam, pulling Steve near again. “You know I love making you feel good. And I know you’ll get me back.”

Steve met his gaze and nodded, leaned close and felt the promise of Sam’s cock, half-hard behind his zipper. Sam was staring at his mouth, his eyes dark, so Steve kissed him, slowly, teasing him with shallow dips of his tongue as he wormed his hand under Sam’s suit jacket to massage his lower back in small circles the way Sam liked. Sam hummed at the touch, chasing Steve’s tongue with his own.

Sam was breathless, his eyes hazy, by the time the elevator chimed on their floor, but he pushed his way out the door in front of Steve and headed down the hall. Steve followed, and when Sam stopped in front of their apartment to dig his keys out of his pocket, Steve pressed up against his back, kissing his neck.

“You keep doing that,” Sam said, turning his head to catch Steve’s lips in a brief kiss, “and I’ll be making a mess of my clothes here, too.”

Steve pushed forward a little harder, pinning Sam and licking behind his ear. He grabbed Sam’s ass and kneaded slightly, loving the way that Sam’s breath caught in his throat.

“Go ahead,” Steve murmured. “I said I’d do the laundry.”

“Fuck yeah, you will,” said Sam, grinding back. “Be my house-husband, I’ll get you an apron.”

Sam finally got the door open, and they stumbled through, laughing. Steve steered Sam with his hands on his hips, walking Sam backwards through the apartment to the bedroom.

He pushed Sam gently when they got to the foot of the bed, and Sam sat, craning his neck to keep kissing him. Steve worked Sam out of his jacket and unbuttoned his shirt, shoving it off his shoulders. Sam did the same to him, and they paused to kick off their shoes and socks.

“God, look at you,” Steve couldn’t help saying.

Sam lay back, clearly showing off a little, his eyes dancing down Steve’s body and back up. The only thing they were wearing now were their rings, and something about that made Steve’s heart skip a beat. Or three.

“You gonna join me, or are you just here to watch?” Sam asked with a smirk.

Steve rolled his eyes. “Like I could stay away,” he said, the sarcastic remark coming out more genuine than he’d intended.

Sam smiled, surprisingly soft, and Steve climbed up. Sam started running his hands over Steve’s body. Steve snagged his left when it got close to his face and kissed it, slipping his tongue around the ring, which made Sam gasp and pull back.

“Too much?” Steve asked, a little smug.

“You’re always too much,” Sam replied without missing a beat.

Steve chuckled and leaned over to rummage in the bedside table for supplies, but Sam tilted his head abruptly and caught Steve’s left nipple in his mouth. Steve hissed at the brush of his teeth, and an involuntary noise escaped his throat as Sam lapped at the spot he’d just bitten, soothing and enfolding it with his warm, wet tongue.

“Too much?” Sam asked innocently.

Steve shook his head, so Sam hummed and kept going, distracting Steve until he forgot what he was doing and just let his head hang as Sam shifted, giving Steve’s right side the same attention. His body was definitely starting to get with the program now; there was heat spreading out from the pit of his stomach, and his dick was getting heavy against his thigh.

He forced himself to focus finally, to grab the lube and condoms and pull back. Sam nodded when Steve moved down, his hands drifting. He touched that sensitive place behind Sam’s balls with his slick fingers, and Sam shivered, the sweat on his skin seeming to crystallize as he broke out in goosebumps.

He kissed Sam’s cock as he moved lower, sliding his fingers back to the tight ring of his opening. He dipped the tip of one finger inside at the same time as he closed his lips around Sam’s dick, and Sam arched up, just a little.

“Oh,” he breathed. “Oh, damn.”

Steve hummed in agreement, making Sam inhale sharply. He eased his finger deeper, then pulled back to circle the rim a little more.

“Tease,” Sam murmured, his voice slurred.

Steve tsked. “Not very nice,” he scolded, but he swallowed Sam’s cock and did it again.

Steve kept at it, stretching Sam slowly until he was fully hard again, until Sam was rocking against his hand and muttering impatient encouragement under his breath. Finally, Steve sat back and rolled the condom down over his erection.

“Like this?” he asked, and Sam nodded. “You ready?”

Sam looked up, his eyes soft and trusting under their long dark lashes. “Ready when you are.”

Steve found abruptly that he couldn’t speak. He bent forward instead and met Sam’s mouth, wet and messy, and then he was sliding in, slow and careful, checking in with another look, another nod. At last, he was all the way there, and the heat of Sam’s body — so close and tight and _there_ beneath him, around him — took his breath away. He paused to get used to the sensation that seemed to set every nerve in his body on fire, and then moved, still slow, still careful.

“Goddamn, you feel good,” Sam mumbled after a few minutes.

“You too,” Steve managed, hoping that Sam knew what he meant, that he was talking about so much more than just sex.

“But I need you to fuck me like you mean it,” Sam added suddenly, his voice louder, rougher.

Steve’s eyes snapped open. Sam’s face was twisted, almost like he was in pain. Steve glanced down and realized that Sam was concentrating, trying not to come yet, squeezing the base of his cock tightly. Steve nodded, more than half in apology, and pulled back, almost all the way out, before thrusting back in, hard enough that Sam bit his bottom lip, his head rolling against the pillow.

“That’s it. Go, baby, go,” he almost begged.

Steve went, moving smoothly in and out of Sam’s body, fucking him harder and faster, the way he wanted it — the way they both wanted it. Eventually, he braced himself with one arm and reached down, covering Sam’s hand with his own.

“God,” Sam breathed. “Steve, I—”

There wasn’t an end to that sentence; Sam’s teeth found his lip again as he shot off, streaking his sweaty chest as he clamped down on Steve’s cock, and Steve fucked him through it, until he was swept away by another hot wave of bliss, gentler than before but lasting longer, sweet in its subtle intensity. He sighed as it hit him, and below him, Sam was sighing, too, his breath cool against Steve’s heated skin.

His eyelids were already falling as Steve pulled out, barely managing to deal with the condom before he collapsed forward and nudged at Sam’s shoulder until he rolled over with a sleepy contented sound. Steve wrapped his arms around him and hugged him close, breathing in the sweat-laced traces of Sam’s cologne.

He interlaced the fingers of their left hands, felt his ring hit Sam’s, and sighed, knowing there was no place he’d rather be.


	2. A Little Slow (2 Days Before)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How Maria and Natasha got together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Begins in Chapter 8, "The Thick Of It," immediately after Sam and Steve are reunited, and ends in the middle of Chapter 9, "Dry Run," when the group is en route to Louisiana. Rated T.

The door to Sam and Steve’s apartment clicked shut, and Maria heard the lock turn. In the hall, Natasha, Bucky, and Sarah seemed to be holding their breath, listening.

“Forget it, guys,” Maria told them. “The walls are very soundproof.”

“Damn,” said Bucky. He tapped his fingers on his thigh, then asked, “What if I got on the roof?”

Natasha nodded thoughtfully. “I’ve got a parabolic microphone, if I could get onto a nearby balcony...”

Maria just shook her head and headed for the elevator with an exhausted sigh. Sarah fell into step beside her, and, after a moment, Bucky and Natasha followed.

“You two must have some weird date nights,” Sarah remarked over her shoulder.

“We’re not weird,” Natasha protested in a fake injured tone.

Bucky laughed, pausing at the door to the stairwell with Natasha at his side. “Yes, we are, love.” His eyes danced in Sarah and Maria’s direction. “You should come up to my place, both of you. We’ll watch a movie or something. God knows I’m not sleeping.”

Maria checked her watch. The jet would be leaving in — _oh, God_ — less than six hours. And once they landed in Louisiana, there’d be Sam’s family to meet and decorators to organize, not to mention the picture that Maria had to have printed and the frame she had to buy.

“Thanks, but not all of us are genetically enhanced,” Maria replied. “I’ve gotta get some shut-eye if I have even a chance of functioning normally tomorrow.”

Sarah nodded and pressed the button to call the elevator. “Same here. Goodnight, you two.”

“Night,” Nat echoed, blowing a kiss to Maria while Bucky nudged open the stairwell entrance and smiled back at them. Maria thought she saw him wink at her, but wrote it off as a fatigue-induced hallucination and stepped into the elevator.

“They’re cute,” Sarah declared. “But weird.”

“Definitely weird,” Maria agreed. She pressed the button for the guest floor, and then for her own. The elevator started to rise. “But they’re close. They have a lot in common.”

Sarah snorted. “Yeah, they’re both flirts,” she said. “Her, especially. At least where you’re concerned.”

Maria frowned. That wasn’t— “What?”

The elevator stopped, but instead of getting out, Sarah held the door open with her arm. “You don’t see it? The air kisses, the way she tosses her hair around like it’s a yo-yo?”

“She’s like that with everyone,” Maria protested, automatic.

Sarah raised her eyebrows.

“Okay, maybe not everyone.”

“Just you,” Sarah insisted. She smiled. “Somebody’s got a crush. And a _very_ understanding boyfriend. Which, you know, weird, since he’s from the 40s. I figured he’d want to put a ring on it, same as Steve.”

“He was awake a lot during the 60s,” Maria replied, deciding to miss the point of Sarah’s words. “Maybe he absorbed some of that free love stuff.”

“Maybe,” Sarah mused. “Either way, she’s into you, and he doesn’t seem the jealous type.”

Maria sighed and ran a hand through her short hair. She was so used to not letting herself think about Natasha. Ever since Fury had brought her in on the Avengers Initiative, and Maria had had to spend a lot more time around the SHIELD agent she’d been crushing on for over a year, she’d passed Natasha’s teasing off as harmless flirtation, an old habit, leftover from too many missions being the _femme fatale_. But, if Sarah was right, if Natasha actually meant it with the hair tossing and the winking and the smiling and the kiss-blowing, if she was trying to tell Maria something without telling her....

She shook her head vigorously, trying to clear it.  She’d had far too little sleep, and it was much too late at night — or early in the morning — for this conversation.

“Can we please just focus on getting your brother married before we start worrying about _my_ love life?”

Sarah laughed and got out of the elevator, still holding the door. “Sure thing, Maria. But Sammy’s gonna be fine, and you’ll need someone to dance with at the reception. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” Maria echoed as the door closed, replacing Sarah’s smile with her own dull reflection in the chrome.

The elevator started descending, and Maria reminded herself that she shouldn’t be thinking about this now, that she really did have to focus on getting Sam and Steve married, first and foremost.

But tonight’s crisis had passed, and Maria was too tired to fend it off any longer. She closed her eyes, putting herself back in the moment in Sam and Steve’s apartment when Natasha had stepped back from the computer, almost bumping into her, the smell of her hair all around her. She wondered what would have happened if she’d reached out, not let Natasha step away. She wondered how it would feel to hold Natasha close, to breathe her in, to kiss—

“Second floor,” the elevator announced, startling Maria back into the present.

“Thanks,” she murmured, because the elevator really was just trying to be helpful.

She stumbled down the hall to her apartment door. She barely remembered to put her gun away before she was crawling between the sheets, and she was asleep before her head hit the pillow.

* * *

Maria’s alarm went off much too early — only three hours after she went to bed — but Maria awoke fully alert with a plan to woo Natasha Romanov, like her sleeping brain had been figuring it out while giving her dreams about Sam trying to find a wedding cake that could break dance.

She showered and dressed quickly, taking a few extra minutes to apply some makeup that she normally wouldn’t bother with, and headed to the kitchen with her hair still damp. Once there, she crouched down and rooted through a bottom cupboard until she found the espresso machine that Nick had given her for Christmas a few years ago.

She had to hand it to her brain: the plan was simple, based on a logical combination of fact and circumstance. The fact was that Natasha loved espresso; Maria had learned this when she discovered her fighting with Tony’s Keurig at Avengers HQ. The circumstance was that Natasha’s machine had broken down last week, while Maria happened to have one that was in working order. All Maria had to do was show up on Nat’s doorstep with a few shots of hot espresso and a smile.

Being that she was more of a straight coffee person, the machine was dusty, but she still remembered how to use it. She wiped it down and plugged it in before going back to the bedroom to dry her hair. A remote but long-practiced part of her mind wondered if Nick Fury had somehow orchestrated all this when he bought her the machine. He knew of Maria’s feelings for Nat, and he knew she didn’t like espresso.... If Maria got the chance, she’d have to ask when she saw him at the wedding tomorrow.  

Only after she knocked on Nat’s door did it occur to her that Natasha might not be home. She might have stayed all night watching movies — or doing other things — at Bucky’s place. But, after a moment, Maria heard movement on the other side of the door. She straightened her shoulders, hitched up her smile, and—

And then Bucky Barnes answered the door without a shirt on.

“Uh,” Maria said, staring stupidly.

She wasn’t into guys— never had been. She’d come out to her parents at thirteen, but it had taken them nearly ten years and three girlfriends to realize that she was serious. Still, she appreciated the male form aesthetically, and Barnes was being very aesthetic this morning, with his hair half-falling out of its bun, his cheeks and chin hazy with stubble, and nothing but smooth skin all the way to the loose waistband of his sweatpants.

He glanced down at the mug in her hand and smirked, half-turning to call something in Romanian — one of the few languages that Maria didn’t speak — over his shoulder.

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Natasha answered in English, but she smiled when she saw Maria and the cup in her hand.

“Yet,” Bucky corrected her softly, still smirking.

Natasha rolled her eyes. Maria felt herself blush. Bucky kissed Nat’s cheek and squeezed out the door, past Maria, heading for the stairs despite being half-dressed with no shoes on.

“See you on the plane, ladies,” he said as he pushed the door open. “Don’t be late.”

“It’s my plane, Barnes,” Maria replied, almost managing to get the words out in her director tone. “Don’t _you_ be late.”

Bucky’s laugh bounced up the stairs before the door swung shut and cut it off. When Maria looked back, Natasha was grinning.

“I love it when you do that,” she said.

“Do what?” Maria asked.

“Boss him around,” Nat answered swiftly.

Maria laughed. “Tell you a secret?” Nat nodded. “I kind of love it, too.”

Natasha’s smile turned sweet and easy, something that Maria had never seen before. All at once, she wanted to kiss her, nuzzle her shoulder, and hold her tight.

Instead, she extended her arm, offering Nat the espresso. “I brought you this,” she said. “Thought maybe you could use some caffeine, and I know your machine bit the dust last week.”

“It did,” Natasha replied, taking the mug but letting her fingers linger against Maria’s for a long moment. “Thank you. Do you want to come in?”

Maria’s skin was already buzzing from Natasha’s unexpectedly shy tone, the tiny point of contact between their skin. “Yeah,” she said, suddenly a little breathless. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

Natasha stepped aside but Maria was still close enough to smell her as she passed, to recognize the scent of her shampoo lacing the rich aroma of the espresso. She stepped into the apartment, realizing from a distance that its layout was very similar to her own, and  heard the door close behind her. She turned to see Natasha with her back against it, looking Maria up and down.

“What?” Maria asked, running a hand through her hair self-consciously.

Natasha shook her head. “Nothing. Just— today, of all days?”

Maria frowned. “Today, of all days... to what?”

“To finally kiss you,” Natasha said, and just like that she was inches away, one hand on Maria’s arm, the other cradling the coffee cup between them. Maria felt a jolt, sweet and sharp, ten times more powerful than caffeine, in the pit of her stomach. “Can I?”

“Please,” Maria managed. “Feel free.”

It felt like the world slowed down. Maria could count Natasha’s pores as she closed the distance between them, she swore she felt the breeze when Natasha’s eyelashes fluttered down. Then there were Natasha’s lips, soft and full and right there. And finally, after years of trying not to imagine it, Maria was kissing her, catching Natasha’s mouth in slow motion, their bodies brushing like the leaves of adjacent trees, moving to the same breath of wind.

Their noses bumped, clumsy, and Maria nearly laughed until Natasha’s hand found her hip and pulled, with just enough strength so that Maria’s mouth fell open in surprise. Natasha took advantage, her tongue slipping in; she tasted like sweet coffee in bed on sunny mornings when they had nowhere else to be.

The kiss ended like it began, both of them inching back, Maria licking her lips and Natasha with her eyes still closed. Natasha slid her hand up from Maria’s hip, slipping it up under the hem of her shirt. Maria hummed happily at the caress of skin on skin, and Nat opened her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured. “I should’ve done that a long time ago.”

Maria shook her head with a breathy laugh. “Well, I needed Sarah to hit me over the head last night, so....”

Natasha grinned as she pulled away enough that she could take a sip of her espresso. “So, what you’re saying is that we’re both a little slow.”

Maria took a second — but only a second — to hesitate before she went further, lifting the cup from Natasha’s hand and setting it on the counter. “I can live with slow,” she said softly, leaning in again. “In fact, I kind of like it.”

“Me too,” Nat replied, and she pulled Maria close for more kisses.

* * *

They’d been at it a while — they’d moved to the couch, their legs and arms tangled up together — when Maria’s phone started buzzing. The vibration against her thigh startled her in a pleasant way, which Natasha seemed to notice; she smirked and snuck her fingers into Maria’s pocket, wriggling them more than she really had to in order to fish the phone out and hand it to her.

“It’s your charge,” she said, and Maria groaned when she glanced at the caller ID.

“Hi Steve,” she greeted him. “What’s wrong?”

“Maria, hi,” Steve replied. “Something’s come up. Well, someone, actually. You see, Sam’s mother called, and—”

Steve kept talking, but Maria stopped listening. Natasha was walking her fingers up her thigh, slipping them back into Maria’s pocket. Maria smiled at her, and Nat shifted, changing the angle, so she could brush her fingers against Maria’s pelvis. Even separated by a layer of fabric, Natasha’s touch was setting off sparks in the arousal that had been smoldering since she got here. She closed her eyes, leaned back to grant Natasha better access, and then Steve ruined it.

“So, can you call the caterer and the venue, please, and let them know we’ll need more food and more seats?”

“Goddammit,” she swore softly.

Natasha, misinterpreting, didn’t relent, trailing her other hand up Maria’s stomach. Maria caught it before she could go higher, and shook her head. Nat pulled back, and Maria got to her feet.

“I’m sorry,” said Steve, and he really sounded like he meant it.

“It’s fine,” she replied with a sigh. “How many last-minute guests again?”

“Just four,” Steve told her.

“Text me their names, so we can do place cards, and I’ll get in touch with the venue to figure out where we’ll put them. Hopefully the caterer won’t charge us an arm and leg.”

“Thanks, Maria. Again, I’m—”

“Yeah, yeah,” said Maria, rolling her eyes. Natasha looked like she was fighting back a laugh. “See you in an hour.”

“Uh,” Steve said, just as Maria was about to hang up.

“What?” she practically snapped at him.

“Don’t you mean half an hour?” he corrected her hesitantly.

Maria’s eyes flew to the clock on the wall. “Shit,” she said, and she disconnected.

“What can I do?” Natasha asked, already on her feet.

Maria thought of her list, rattled off the items in her head. “The guys’ suits,” she said. “They’re waiting at the shop.”

“Send James,” Natasha said, pulling out her phone and texting him at once. “That’s what a best man’s for. What else?”

“Uh,” Maria stammered. “Well, there’s all the stuff in my apartment to load up—”

“Easy, I’ll get that,” Natasha volunteered. She ducked in, gave Maria a quick, airy kiss. “You just deal with the latest disaster, and leave the rest to me.”

Maria raised her eyebrows. “You’ll spoil me,” she warned.

“About time someone did,” Natasha replied, remarkably tender. She tucked a piece of hair behind Maria’s ear and kissed her again. “You’re extraordinary, Maria.”

Maria felt her cheeks warm. She looked down, hiding the sappy smile that had spread across her face as her heart rose within her chest.

“Now come on,” Nat added. “We’ve got a plane to catch.”

* * *

There could be no doubt about it: Sam and Steve had made up from their fight last night.

They loaded their luggage together, trading kisses for garment bags; they held hands up the boarding ramp, Steve leading Sam with bright and giddy eyes, like a puppy heading for the park; they settled into seats right beside each other, Sam’s seatbelt stretching during takeoff because he was resting his head on Steve’s shoulder. 

It was all very adorable. Maria thought she might vomit.

 _Don’t get all mushy_ , she’d told Steve when he thanked her profusely for making the last-minute arrangements, but when Natasha raised her eyebrows at her over his shoulder, Maria knew she’d been caught chastising herself. The way Nat looked at her was definitely giving her mushy feelings, and dammit if they weren’t all over her face.

She blamed the upcoming wedding — love being in the air and all that. 

Once the plane had taken off, everyone except the happy couple moved to the lounge area, and Maria finally felt a release of some of the tension that had been creeping into her shoulders for the last ninety minutes. She wasn’t the only one; Sarah and Jim sank onto the loveseat with matching sighs, Wanda started meditating immediately, and Natasha flopped comfortably into the center of the couch, beckoning to Bucky with an outstretched hand. He grinned and went to her, settled into one corner of the sofa, then looked to Maria.

“Sit down, you’re tilting the room,” he teased, jerking his head towards the empty space on the other side of Natasha.

Natasha patted the cushion beside her hopefully, but Maria hesitated.

“We can share,” Bucky added, soft and serious.

“Okay,” Maria mumbled at last, ignoring the very pointed looks Sarah was giving her.

She took Natasha’s hand when she offered it, intertwining their fingers between their thighs. Natasha shifted her weight, leaning into Maria, her body soft and relaxed. Maria hesitated one more second before she buried her nose in Natasha’s hair, breathed in the sweet scent of her shampoo, of her, and kissed Nat’s temple. Natasha made a small, pleased noise under her breath.

“Well, we’ve got about four hours to kill,” Scott said suddenly. Maria glanced over to see that he’d turned on the TV and was scrolling through Netflix. “Anybody want to watch _Titanic_?”

“Can we not watch a disaster movie?” Sarah asked. “Feels like a bad omen.”

“We could watch _Lord of the Rings_ ,” Bucky suggested, but Jim groaned.

“My snores will drown out the dialogue,” he warned. “Hope you’re okay with that.”

“Actually, a nap seems like a good idea,” said Maria, unable to keep from grinning when Bucky sent her a scandalized glare. “Put it on, Scott.”

Scott saluted her with the remote, selected the film with a flourish, and squeezed himself between Sarah and Rhodey on the loveseat. Maria wondered for a second if he’d shrunk himself slightly to accomplish that, and she found herself giggling at the thought. Natasha gave her a curious look, and Bucky absently shushed her. He was on the edge of his seat, fixated on the opening narration like he hadn’t already seen it at least a dozen times.

Natasha nudged him with her foot. “Nerd.”

Without taking his eyes off the screen, he grabbed her ankle and held it. “Dork.”

Maria laughed again. Natasha shifted up, kissed her lips once. They shared a look, a smile, a promise, before Nat sighed back into a comfortable position and closed her eyes. Maria kept hers open, listening to Bucky explain to Wanda how the film was different from the book, while Jim faked loud snores and Scott and Sarah started talking about their kids.

Twenty-four hours ago, Maria never would have thought that she could have this — Natasha in her arms, a room full of family — and she never dreamt of this outcome when she offered to plan a wedding six months ago. There was still a lot to work out — for instance, she still had to pull off this whole wedding thing tomorrow — but for now, she could rest.


	3. All Yours Tonight (The Wedding)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky's wedding night hook-up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set during chapter 11, "The Wedding," after dinner. Rated E.

Bucky was sitting at the bar, drinking the finest whiskey the caterers had on hand. Not that the alcohol had much of an impact on him, but it was on Steve’s tab, so Bucky figured he may as well drink up. Plus, it gave him an excuse to hang out in a relatively quiet corner of the reception hall, where the crowd was thinner.

He watched the party going on around him, watched the guests’ faces get flushed with wine and movement. He grinned when Natasha dragged Maria out to dance and laughed when Sam, tipsy on champagne, tried to dip Steve. Only Steve’s enhanced reflexes kept them both from hitting the floor.

Steve got Sam into a chair after that and came over to the bar to snag a few bottles of water. He nodded at Bucky as he opened one, took a long drink.

“You good?” he asked.

“Right as rain, Mr. Wilson,” Bucky replied.

Steve laughed and shoved at Bucky’s shoulder, but his eyes drifted, tracking inevitably back to his husband. “Sam said to tell you that you look lonely.”

Bucky chuckled. “Tell him I’ll be fine.”

“Well,” Steve went on, replacing the cap of his bottle. “He also told me to tell you that one of his cousins looks lonely, too.”

He nodded towards a corner table. Bucky looked, saw a man seated alone, sipping at a glass of white wine and typing on his phone.   

“And what makes Sam think that I’d want to be lonely with that guy?” Bucky asked skeptically.

“Just a thought,” Steve said, his tone vague as he shrugged and looked away again.

Bucky followed his gaze to Natasha and Maria, slow-dancing in the middle of the floor. He smiled, happy for Tasha all over again, but he could kind of see Sam’s point — weddings were about people getting together, after all, so maybe it was a bit weird to be spending the evening alone.

“His name is Jesse,” Steve told him. “He’s 36, a chemical physicist at Texas A&M. Single for the last three months, since his ex transferred to NYU and didn’t want to do the long-distance thing. _And_ he told his mother that he thinks you’re cute,” he added in a rapid undertone, listing the details like he had only seconds to get them out.

Bucky rolled his eyes. “I’m too old and grizzled to be cute.”

“Well, maybe she was paraphrasing,” Steve said. “Though you did shave today.”

“True,” Bucky conceded, rubbing at the barely-there stubble that had started to fill in the last few hours.

“Go on,” Steve urged. “Talk to him, ask him to dance. What have you got to lose?”

He bumped Bucky’s shoulder once more before heading back to his husband, who was sending Bucky a huge grin and a cheesy wave. Bucky shook his head fondly and waved back, and Sam pointed towards Jesse, giving Bucky two thumbs up. Bucky rolled his eyes, but he did glance again in Jesse’s direction.

Jesse had put his phone away and was giving Bucky an appreciative up and down. He met Bucky’s eyes and smiled a little sheepishly. Bucky smiled back and sipped his whiskey, considering.

The guy was cute, he supposed. From here, he couldn’t see any family resemblance between him and Sam, but that was probably for the best; it’d be weird hooking up with somebody who looked like his best friend’s husband.

Not that he wanted to hook up with the guy.

But it had been a while — a long while — since he’d been with a man, and if the guy was interested, which he seemed to be, then maybe Steve had a point. What did he have to lose?

Natasha chose that moment to look over — Sam was talking in her ear with Steve at his side, holding on but not quite holding him up — and even from across the room, Bucky could see the challenge in her eyes, the question.

Trust Nat to push him like this. Though, to be fair, he’d been nudging her in Maria’s direction for a few months now.   

“Oh, what the hell,” he muttered. He threw back his drink and asked the barkeep for one more. “Plus a glass of your priciest white wine.”

“We only have one white wine,” the woman replied.

“Then I guess that’s the one I want,” Bucky said agreeably.

He used a certain tone with a certain smile, tilting his head to the side a little, just to see, and it worked — she flushed a little, smiling shyly down at the counter.

Bucky nodded to himself. That settled it, then. He took the glasses and left a $20 tip in their place when the bartender wasn’t looking.

* * *

“Would you like some company?” Bucky asked when he reached Sam’s cousin’s table.

It wasn’t the best line — Bucky had mentally rehearsed and then rejected a few on his way over, deciding to opt for simplicity — but Jesse looked up and smiled, which Bucky decided to take as a good start.

“Clearly, you’re hoping I say yes,” he replied, eyeing the glasses that Bucky had just put down.

Bucky shrugged. “Call me an optimist.”

Jesse gestured for Bucky to sit. “Okay, Optimist, you can call me Jesse,” he replied, his voice thick with New Orleans and just a little Texas.

“Handsome _and_ funny, how about that,” Bucky said as he sat down, drawing the words out in a way that he hadn’t done for years. “I’m James, but most everybody calls me Bucky.”

“I know,” said Jesse with a small smile. He sipped his drink.

Bucky did the same, assessing Jesse over the rim of his glass. From the bar, he’d thought the guy was cute, but up close and in the glow of the fairy lights on the walls and the candles in the table centerpiece, Jesse was downright gorgeous. Good genes, those Wilsons had.

He was fairer than Sam, with freckles scattered across his nose and cheekbones, something that Bucky was hard-pressed to resist; there was a reason he’d been chasing redheads since before the war. And, as Jesse set his wine back down, Bucky got a good look at his eyes — gray-blue with dark rims, like a pool of water that was deeper than it seemed. His thin, scrubby beard looked soft; Bucky almost wanted to lean over and touch it, but it was far too early for something like that. Maybe later, he told himself; if this went well, he’d have all night.

So he asked Jesse about his job instead, and Jesse asked him about how he met Sam, which had Bucky biting his tongue — that was a story where he didn’t exactly come across in the best light.

“I mean, as your best friend’s partner. Not like, the Accords or anything,” Jesse clarified a second later. He looked down at his glass, drawing lines in the condensation. “I know that pretty much everything Sam’s done since his first tour is classified, so I get it if you can’t talk about it, either.”

Bucky nodded, grateful for Jesse’s understanding. The Wilsons were a military family, he reminded himself; of course he’d get it.

“We did have a bit of a rough start,” Bucky admitted. “But when the dust settled,” — _and I got my brain fixed_ , he didn’t add— “Steve had me over for dinner to make a formal introduction, and that’s a story I can tell.”

He grinned, and Jesse raised his eyebrows. “Go on.”

So Bucky did, starting with how Steve had tried to cook — a disaster — and recounting the way that he and Sam had bonded while fixing the mess that Steve had made. Jesse was a good audience: he cringed and made faces when Bucky explained that Steve hadn’t drained the beans when he added them to the chili, and he laughed when he got to the part where Sam smacked Steve on the ass with a wooden spoon. Bucky realized that he loved the way Jesse laughed — quietly, but with his whole body.

“Sam must’ve learned that from his mama,” he said. His wine was nearly gone now, and he’d stopped fiddling with the glass. “I remember one time, when we were teenagers, we got it into our heads that we could make cookies. Only, we were teenagers, so we decided we’d experiment with some, uh, special ingredients. And, oh boy, when his mama found out....”

Bucky laughed out loud. “Amazing.”

“You’re so pretty when you smile like that,” Jesse told him suddenly.

Bucky raised his eyebrows. “Pretty?”

“I mean,” Jesse went on in a rush. Even in the dim light, Bucky could see Jesse’s cheeks darken. “You’re just— nice-looking, and uh....”

Bucky chuckled. “Thanks,” he said, coming to Jesse’s rescue. “You’re pretty, too.”

“Guys probably didn’t call guys pretty much in your day, huh?” Jesse said, too casually, as he swiped imaginary crumbs off the table.

“Well,” Bucky began, stretching his legs out and touching Jesse’s ankle with the toe of his shoe. Jesse’s fidgeting stilled, and Bucky smirked a little. “That depended on which bar you were at. Buy me another drink, and I’ll tell you all about it.”

“Isn’t it an open bar?” said Jesse, frowning slightly.

Bucky raised his foot a little higher, stroking the back of Jesse’s calf before he pulled it back. “Fine. Let Steve buy me another drink, and I’ll tell you all about it.”

Jesse’s tongue appeared on top of his bottom lip for one teasing second before he grinned and got to his feet. Bucky turned to watch him go — it was one hell of a nice view.

His phone buzzed in his pocket while Jesse was waiting at the bar. Bucky pulled it out to find a one-word message from — who else? — Natasha.

_Shameless._

He rolled his eyes. _At least I’m not necking with my girlfriend on the dance floor._

 _She’s not my girlfriend,_ Nat reminded him.

 _Just like you’re not mine, right?_ Bucky replied. He looked up, found her on the other side of the room, sticking her tongue out at him. _Put that thing to better use, would you?_

 _Shameless_ , Nat said again.

Bucky just laughed and held his phone up, so she could see him turn it off before he put it away.

“What’s so funny?” Jesse asked, as he set the drinks down and re-claimed his seat.

“Women,” Bucky replied.

“Can’t say I know much about that,” Jesse admitted with a wince. “Only had one girlfriend, and that was in eighth grade. Even then I knew something was off.”

Bucky chuckled. “Fair enough.”

Jesse was fidgeting again, picking at the table cloth. “So the, uh, maid of honor. She’s your girlfriend, right?”

“She hates that word,” Bucky replied, taking a drink from his fresh glass. “So, no. But tonight it doesn’t matter. She’s with her girl, so I’m all yours.”

Jesse’s mouth dropped open, and Bucky realized what he’d just said.

“Uh,” he added, feeling his face flush. Maybe the whiskey was having an impact after all. “If you want me. If you don’t, then—”

“Are you kidding me?” Jesse burst out, loud enough that a couple people on the dance floor glanced over in surprise. “You’re Bucky Barnes,” he went on, more quietly. “Hell yeah, I want you. I’ve had a crush on you since eighth grade.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow. “Eighth grade, huh?” he teased, knocking their shoulders together.

“Told you I knew something was off,” Jesse muttered.

Bucky couldn’t help it; he laughed as Jesse took his turn to blush under his freckles and edged closer, until he could feel the heat radiating from Jesse’s skin.

“Look at you,” he almost crooned, his fingers brushing Jesse’s forearm. “That blush go all the way down?”

“You haven’t even kissed me yet,” Jesse countered, sounding almost pouty.

So Bucky ducked in, nuzzled Jesse’s beard — it was exactly as soft as he’d thought it would be — and found his lips, hot and dry, but parted. Waiting. Jesse remained completely still as Bucky pressed their mouths together, but he made a tiny noise when Bucky slipped his tongue out, and his fingers tightened on Bucky’s left arm. Bucky shifted, bringing his other hand up to cup Jesse’s cheek. It was a little awkward, all tangled up like that, but Jesse seemed to relax, enough that he let Bucky steal a taste of his wine off his tongue.

When Bucky pulled back — easy, slow — Jesse’s eyes stayed closed. Bucky smirked a little at his dazed look when he opened them a few seconds later.

“I guess when you know, you know, huh?” he said, as he chased the kiss with another mouthful of whiskey.

Jesse nodded slowly. “I know.”

He met Bucky’s eyes and swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing, and then he leaned in, initiating this time. Bucky let him lead, let him wrap a foot around his calf, let him rub his thigh and inch his hand a little higher with each motion. He hummed pleasurably and tilted his head, letting his eyes fall shut, when Jesse started dropping kisses along his jawline.

It was good — so good — to feel Jesse’s beard brush against his cheek, making his skin spark with potential. It’d been years, and Jesse smelled amazing, and before long Bucky felt his cock getting heavy between his legs.

He groaned softly and took charge again, reaching out blindly until he found the back of Jesse’s chair and tugged it nearer. Near enough that he could sneak a hand into Jesse’s suit jacket while he licked into Jesse’s mouth, while he traced the buttons of his shirt all the way down, feeling the faint outline of hair beneath the fabric, and pressed his palm against the growing bulge behind Jesse’s fly.

Jesse’s breath hitched, and Bucky grinned against his lips. “Wanna get out of here?”

“Yes,” Jesse whispered, his eyes flicking away from Bucky and then back. He licked his lips. “ _God_ , yes, but— they haven’t even cut the cake yet.”

“What?” said Bucky, pulling back with a huff of surprised laughter.

“The cake,” Jesse repeated. His eyes were fuzzy with lust, but he held his ground, shaking his head as if to clear it. “We can’t leave yet; my aunt will kill me. Or stop inviting me for Thanksgiving, which is worse.”

Bucky blinked. “You’re serious.”

“If you’ve ever had Darlene’s sweet potato pie, you know just how serious I am,” Jesse joked.

He was still practically in Bucky’s lap, though, and Bucky had an idea. “Okay,” he said. “You’re probably right. I should stick around, too, see if there are any more best man duties that need doing.”

Jesse nodded, looking like he was trying very hard to seem relieved and not disappointed.

“But they probably won’t miss us if we disappear for a little bit,” Bucky went on, dropping his voice. “Want to join me in the coat room?”

Jesse bit his bottom lip, hesitating. Bucky waggled his eyebrows, knowing full well that he looked ridiculous, and said those four silly words he’d learned from watching dozens of terrible teen movies with Natasha.

“Seven minutes in heaven?”

Jesse’s mouth dropped open. “How do you—? You know what, never mind. I don’t need to know.”

He pushed himself away and led Bucky to the back of the hall. Bucky just laughed and went along with it, wondering if any of his friends had noticed.

“My thirteen-year-old self would never believe this,” Jesse muttered, as they ducked into the small room.

“Mine neither,” Bucky agreed, and then he was closing the door behind them, pressing Jesse flat against it and palming his cock through his pants as he kissed him, rough and eager.

“I wanna suck you off,” he murmured, and Jesse shuddered, his hips jerking forward just enough to make it even harder for Bucky to undo the zipper he was fighting with.

When he finally got it, Jesse sighed in relief, and Bucky felt his own cock ache in sympathy. But he wanted this — the hot, heavy feel of a dick in his mouth, Jesse’s pulse pounding against his tongue — and he could wait.

“Can I?” he asked, aware of how desperate he sounded.

“Anything,” Jesse breathed, and Bucky dropped to his knees. “Anything, Bucky, God. I can’t believe this is happening.”

Bucky circled the tip of Jesse’s cock with his tongue — like the rest of him it was lean and pretty, long and cut — and Jesse heaved in a huge breath as Bucky closed his lips around it, gave it a few quick, teasing sucks. Jesse’s hand came near his face, but stopped and closed into a fist before it connected.

“You can touch me, touch my hair,” Bucky said, pulling off to unbutton the bottom half of Jesse’s shirt, so he could pin Jesse’s cock against his belly and lick the underside.

“Okay,” Jesse replied, a little shaky, but he did it, burying his fingers in Bucky’s hair and combing them gently through.

Bucky closed his eyes at the sensation and took Jesse back into his mouth, a little deeper this time. Jesse’s fingers clenched up, sending an unexpected shiver along his scalp and down his spine like dropping a pebble into still water. He looked up, and Jesse’s touch became more tender, running his thumb over Bucky’s stretched lips.

“Oh, Lord, you’re beautiful,” he said thickly, and Bucky smiled with his eyes before he went back to work.

His own arousal faded into a pleasant background hum as he focused on making Jesse feel good, on doing something that he hadn’t done for years, relishing the moments when pure muscle memory took over — covering his teeth with his lips, licking harder than he ever could with a woman, relaxing his throat to let Jesse in as deep as he could. It reminded him, strangely, of a weapons check — all systems go, automatic — but this was anything but routine, and it was much too good to be corrupted by war.

He remembered the warning signs that a guy would give when he was about to come — a tap on the shoulder, maybe, or a little shove — and pulled back the first few times this happened, to let Jesse settle down a bit before he dove back in, to make it last a little bit longer. But when Jesse’s hips started rocking, and he hissed Bucky’s name through his teeth, Bucky didn’t, couldn’t let himself let up again. He wanted it, wanted Jesse’s taste, all that Jesse would give him.

He kept the tip of Jesse’s cock in his mouth and brought his right hand up to finish him off with a few sharp, firm strokes. Jesse’s body went taut, his dick pulsed and spurted in Bucky’s mouth, and Bucky held him through it, through the shudders and the twitches, reminded of what he loved about being with another man.

Jesse groaned as Bucky sat back and fished his handkerchief out of his pocket, but he looked down and chuckled breathlessly.

“You have a— of course you do,” he said, shaking his head. “Pinch me, I’m pretty sure I fell asleep in the middle of your toast.”

“It wasn’t that long,” Bucky protested, flicking Jesse’s thigh.

“Ouch,” Jesse laughed as he pulled Bucky to his feet. “Don’t listen to me, I’m babbling. The guy I’ve been crushing on for twenty-odd years just sucked my brain out through my dick.”

Bucky grinned and licked his lips, and Jesse pulled him close, kissing him slow and sloppy. He settled his hands on Bucky’s lower back and kneaded, spreading his fingers wide and slipping them barely under the waistband of his pants. It was a tease, a taste of skin on skin, and all at once Bucky’s arousal rushed back — he was rock-hard in seconds, almost lightheaded with it. 

“Mm, well, hello,” Jesse murmured into Bucky’s mouth, shoving his hips into Bucky’s, letting them start a slow, merciless grind. “Return the favor for you?”

Bucky nodded, too turned on to even be smug about it. Jesse turned them so that Bucky had his back to the door and sank down, unbuttoning Bucky’s pants and freeing his dick, all before his knees hit the floor. Bucky sighed with joy and relief at the first tentative suck, but Jesse didn’t hesitate for long. Soon he was surging forward, Bucky’s cock filling his throat, and pulling back, far enough that a breath of air against his wet skin made him tingle.

“Oh, that’s good, sweetheart,” Bucky said without meaning to, and Jesse swallowed around him. Bucky gasped, loud and sudden in the quiet room. “Jesse,” he mumbled.

Jesse hummed, the vibration going through him from root to tip. Bucky’s head rolled back, he wasn’t going to last, not with Jesse’s blue eyes looking up at him, and — _God_ — the noises he was making, like Bucky’s cock was the best thing he’d ever tasted. So when Jesse gripped his ass again and squeezed, Bucky nudged Jesse’s shoulder, to tell him, to warn— but Jesse just closed his eyes and took him all the way, and Bucky lost all concern, he was coming hard and deep down Jesse’s throat, his thighs shaking as the orgasm shoved its way through and left him hanging onto Jesse’s shoulders for support.

His breath was coming in gusts, he could feel the sweat beading on his forehead and on the back of his neck, and Jesse was still sucking him, gentler now, interspersed with tiny licks and kisses that made him quiver. Bucky stroked Jesse’s cheek and eased him back, smiling when Jesse licked his lips.

“Good?” Jesse asked, sounding almost nervous to hear the answer.

“Perfect, ” Bucky replied. He ran his fingers down that oh-so-soft beard again, until he reached Jesse’s lips. “Thank you.”

Jesse looked down, bashful, but he kissed the pad of Bucky’s thumb. “I can’t believe I just blew Bucky Barnes in a closet,” he murmured.

“To be fair, I blew you first,” Bucky replied. “Now, come up here and kiss me, sweetheart,” he added, since Jesse had seemed to like that name earlier.

Jesse smiled, bright and beautiful, and let Bucky pull him to his feet. They made out lazily against the door, Jesse’s body pressed against his, lips and hips sliding together, smooth and easy, until somebody rattled the knob. Bucky could hear confused voices, a man asking, _What's wrong?_ and a woman replying,  _The door seems to be stuck or something._

“Shit,” Jesse whispered, going tense all over.

Bucky bit back a laugh. “Guess we were a little longer than seven minutes, huh?”

* * *

They made it back just in time to see Sam and Steve cut the cake — Natasha gave him a knowing look, but no one else seemed to notice their absence — and then Bucky took Steve’s advice and asked Jesse to dance.

“Doing things a little backwards, I know,” he added, feeling shy despite everything they’d just done.

But Jesse grinned and accepted, on the condition that Bucky would lead. So Bucky did, and, aside from the looks they kept getting from the grooms — Steve went soppy, and Bucky knew he was thinking of how they used to go to the dancehall in the old days, while Sam seemed downright smug — it was the best decision he’d ever made. The night passed in a blur: music, colorful lights, and Jesse — his voice in Bucky’s ear as their bodies moved in tandem, his hands on Bucky’s ass and in Bucky’s hair, his soft eyes and warm smile locked on him.

Eventually, he heard the DJ talking, introducing “Close To You,” the last song of the night.

“What a troll,” Bucky muttered. He rolled his eyes at Jesse because Steve wasn’t looking, and Jesse laughed that sweet quiet laugh that Bucky found so addictive.

A moment later, there was a hand on Bucky’s lower back, and he tensed in the split-second before Natasha came into his line of sight. No one else could sneak up on him like that.

“I’m outta here, okay?” she said in his ear.

“Okay,” Bucky agreed, turning his head to kiss her. “Goodnight.”

“Oh, it will be. For both of us,” Natasha assured him. Her eyes danced over to Jesse. “Take care of my boyfriend, will you?”

“I— I’ll try,” Jesse stammered, his fingers tapping against his thigh.

“So I’m your boyfriend now, am I?” Bucky teased her, hoping to relax him.

But Nat’s reply was soft and serious. “You know you’ve always been more than that.”

Bucky looked down, taking her hand and raising it to his lips. It was disarming, the way she could do that — turn him to jelly with just a few words. 

“I love you,” he murmured in Russian against her skin, like it was a secret, which it sort of was. Always sort of had been, since his half-remembered days in the Red Room.

“Love you, too,” she said, and then switched back to English. “See you in the morning. Don’t forget: brunch is at Darlene’s from 11 to 3 tomorrow.”

“Nice of her to give the hungover people a wide margin,” Bucky commented with a grin. “Goodnight, love.”

“Goodnight,” Natasha echoed. She clapped Jesse on the shoulder and walked away.

Bucky watched her kiss Maria on the cheek and lead her away, still smiling, then turned to Jesse, who was looking a little star-struck and fidgeting again, shifting his weight from one foot to another.

“She’s really okay with this?” he asked.

“I wouldn’t be doing it if she wasn’t,” Bucky reassured him. He grabbed Jesse’s hands and put them back on his hips. “Trust me, she’s okay with it.”

“Okay,” said Jesse, his smile less hesitant this time.

“Besides,” Bucky added, leading Jesse into a slow dance to Steve’s stupid, cheesy song.  “If she wasn’t, we’d both know it.”

“How?”

“Well, our balls’d be missing for one thing,” Bucky replied with a smirk that made Jesse laugh again.

As the song faded out, Bucky leaned in close and licked Jesse’s earlobe — _shameless_ , he could practically hear Nat saying in his head.

“Wanna go back to my hotel room and see if we can’t find a few more activities that we’re all okay with?”

Jesse sucked in a quick breath then pulled back and grinned. His hands slid down Bucky’s back to knead at his ass for a few glorious seconds before he let go.

“Sounds like a plan.”

Bucky was hoping to make a quick getaway, but Sam and Steve — and their entourage of guests — were crowding the door, shaking hands and saying goodnight. All of his arousal vanished as Bucky joined the fray, tamping down the mild anxiety that threatened him, focusing on Jesse’s hand in his until they reached the grooms.

“I see you found somebody to be lonely with, after all,” Sam commented, eyeing the two of them and looking supremely proud of himself.

“Shut up, Wilson,” Bucky muttered, just before Steve hauled him into a tight hug that might have broken a rib or two if Bucky wasn’t enhanced.

“So happy to have you here, Buck,” the sappy giant said, letting him go and smiling at him with suspiciously bright eyes.

“Me too, Stevie,” Bucky told him. “Me too.”

“Y’all have a good night, now,” drawled Sam, after he’d hugged Jesse as well.

“Don’t worry,” Jesse replied, looking to Bucky and smiling that pretty little smile that made Bucky’s mouth go dry. “We will.”


	4. Getaway (The Wedding)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maria and Natasha's night together. Rated E.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set at the end of Chapter 11, "The Wedding."

Even with her face buried in Natasha’s shoulder and her fingers fumbling around the halter straps knotted at the nape of Natasha’s neck, Maria still expected to wake up.

From the moment she had opened her eyes almost eighteen hours ago in this very room, the day had felt more than half like a dream. What kind of dream it was changed from minute to minute — it seemed to alternate between a stress dream in which she could never keep up, and one of those soft-filter romance fantasies from an 80s movie — but the fact remained that everything seemed pretty surreal. And now, with a couple extra glasses of champagne coursing through her, and Natasha in her arms, Maria wanted to pinch herself, just a little.

Because there was no way that she could have this, right? There was no way that Natasha’s chiffon skirt could swirl so perfectly around her legs like they were sharing it, a tangle of skin separated by the barest fabric. And the sounds that Nat was making as Maria kissed along her neck, as she finally got her hands to work right, and the top half of the dress slipped down to Natasha’s waist? Incredible.

“God, Maria,” Natasha sighed. “Get me outta these clothes, I need you to touch me.”

Maria was sure that that was the first time she’d ever heard Natasha admit she needed something. The words rose like bubbles to Maria’s head, she felt light as air, dizzy with it, as she did what Natasha asked, unhooking her bra and undoing the back zipper enough that the dress puddled around their feet. Natasha sighed again, sounding utterly relieved, when Maria’s hands cradled the warm weight of her breasts. Maria pressed them together, ducked her head to lick between them, and Natasha gasped before pulling away.  

“Your turn,” she murmured.

Suddenly Nat’s lips were at her throat while her hands reached around to unfasten the hook and eye at the top of the zipper that ran along the back of Maria’s dress. A draft of cooler air hit her — Natasha was working the zipper down — but it was Nat’s mouth that sent shivers down her spine. The chill turned to heat between her legs, Maria squirmed with want while Nat’s teeth and tongue danced along the sensitive skin from her clavicle to her ear. Belatedly, Maria realized her hands were still on Nat’s breasts, practically trapped between them, and she wiggled her thumbs, brushing the stiff peaks of Natasha’s nipples. Natasha exhaled a laughing breath against Maria’s skin.

“It’s stuck,” she said, stepping back.

“Stuck,” Maria repeated.

The word had no meaning — she was too enthralled by the way Nat’s eyelids fluttered each time she moved her thumbs. Her dress was too thick, she thought, there was too much fabric between her skin and Natasha’s, and that was when she realized what Natasha was talking about.

“Oh,” she said, and moved away. “My zipper.”

Natasha laughed and made a twisting gesture with one finger, so Maria turned around.

For a second, nothing happened, and then Natasha’s hands landed firmly on her ass, making Maria gasp. Nat kneaded the muscle, and Maria felt the day’s — week’s, month’s — tension draining away like sand running through Nat’s strong, capable fingers. Her hands hit the mattress, she heard, from a distance, the moan that crawled out of her throat — God, it’d been a long time since anyone touched her like this, how could she have forgotten how _good_ it was?

“If I had my equipment,” Natasha murmured, as her fingers snuck under Maria’s hemline. Maria drew in a ragged breath, went completely still, but Natasha didn’t finish her sentence. She just toyed with the edge of Maria’s panties — close, but not nearly close enough to where Maria was so wet and needy — before she worked them down her legs.

“Tease,” Maria breathed.

Natasha kissed each knot of Maria’s spine. “I thought you liked it slow,” she replied, dragging the zipper down.

“I like everything,” Maria said, too honest. Her face was burning, she was grateful to be facing away.

But Natasha just let the dress fall and went back to kissing Maria’s neck. “Me too,” she said, setting off another wave of chills.

Maria wondered how could her body produce goosebumps when everything within her was burning, but Natasha starting rocking her hips, grinding against Maria’s bare ass, and then Maria wasn’t thinking at all. She let Nat hold her up, rode the motion, closed her eyes when she felt the first brush of Nat’s quick fingers against her clit.

“If I had my cock,” Natasha said. The pressure and movement betrayed her desperation, even though her voice stayed steady. “I’d do you just like this, baby, would you like that?”

“Yes,” Maria tried to say, but it came out as a hiss because Natasha was letting her hand linger — just enough to turn Maria helpless.

“Didn’t quite catch that, love,” Natasha murmured against Maria’s neck, and Maria shivered again at that word. Was this love, she wondered, thinking abruptly of Bucky — that was his word for Natasha, and now it was Natasha’s word for her.

“We can share,” she whispered. What else could it be but love?

“Hmm?” said Natasha. She took her hand away to unhook Maria’s bra.

Maria drew a breath to regain her focus. She pulled the bra off and turned around. “Nothing,” she replied. She brought a hand up to Nat’s cheek, swiped her thumb against the barely-there freckles that she’d been admiring from a distance for years. “I just— this feels like a dream.”

“It’s not,” Natasha told her softly, kissing her fingers for punctuation. “I’m here, and you’re here, and I want to make love to you.”

Maria grabbed her, pulled her down with her onto the bed, into a kiss that was all tongue. She grabbed at Natasha’s panties, slipped a finger between her legs, and lost her breath again at discovering just how much Nat wanted her. Natasha laughed into her mouth and pulled back slightly.

“Feeling’s mutual, I take it,” she teased. She raised herself up enough to take off her underwear.

“Very mutual,” Maria replied.

For a long time after that, neither spoke except with their bodies, which traded conversation in a language all their own: Maria skimmed her palms down Natasha’s back to get a handful of her plump little ass, while Natasha grazed her teeth over Maria’s pulse point; Maria nibbled at Nat’s earlobe in retaliation, and Natasha’s fingers found their way up to pinch lightly at a nipple. This game continued, and when Nat finally slipped inside her, Maria realized with a gasp how close to the edge she was — the muscles in her thighs drawn tight, her cunt throbbing around Natasha’s fingers.

“Jesus,” she said, clutching at Nat’s shoulder. “You have to— please, Tasha,” she managed.

Natasha didn’t hesitate, smoothly changing the angle, so her thumb nudged Maria’s clit while her fingers — were there three now? — gave Maria enough thickness to clench around. God, it was good, the way Maria could feel it, rising like an inevitable wave lapping at her curled toes and washing all the way up to her tight nipples, building, building—

And then Nat kissed her, and her tongue still tasted like champagne, her lips were incredibly soft, and Maria came with a muffled cry into Nat’s mouth, the pleasure blooming again and again, leaving her gasping for air, drowning on dry land.

It took her a while to get herself back together — she was warm water seeping into the earth — but eventually she opened her eyes to find Nat smiling down at her, her fingers toying with the ends of her hair.

“Still think you’re dreaming?” Natasha asked.

“Hope not,” Maria said, tilting her chin up.

Natasha obliged her, kissing her slower now, more gently like she thought Maria was on the verge of falling asleep. That wouldn’t do, Maria decided, so she surged up and rolled them over to the other side of the bed. It surprised her that she was able to do it, but Nat opened her eyes and grinned, letting Maria know who had actually just pinned whom.

“You got me,” said Natasha. “What are you gonna do with me now?”

Maria chose to answer that with her mouth. Natasha’s breasts were perfect globes in Maria’s hands, her skin creamy and soft under her lips. Natasha moaned when Maria closed her mouth around one nipple and drew circles with her tongue — God, Maria could do this for hours, but Nat was squirming against the mattress, her hand clenching and twisting the sheet, so Maria slid further down until her nose was buried in the red curls between her legs.

“Maria,” Natasha sighed, opening her legs more.

Maria pressed her mouth to Nat’s clit. “Yes, Natasha?”

Nat’s hips lifted off the bed, Maria’s chin was wet. “Please.”

“Okay,” Maria replied, and she went to work, nudging one finger inside while she tasted Nat’s clit, drawing the circles again until Natasha threaded her fingers through Maria’s hair like she needed the support.

Maria curled her fingers inside, watching Nat twitch. She licked around them, between them, slipping her tongue in before dancing it back up to her clit. She couldn’t get enough of the contrast between how Nat was moving her hips — slowly arching them up and bringing them down like speed didn’t matter — and how Nat’s grip on her hair was tightening.

She’d never seen Nat this desperate. She liked it.  

“I’m so close,” Nat whispered a second later, like she’d read Maria’s mind. “Please, Maria, please, please, fuck—”

Maria couldn’t deny anything Natasha asked; she licked hard and fast, Nat’s clit firm under her tongue, and a second later, Nat shuddered and moaned, her cunt contracting around Maria’s fingers, almost pushing her out entirely.

Maria kept going until Nat’s muscles relaxed, until she sighed and then — to Maria’s surprise — giggled. Maria pulled back with a soft laugh and gently extracted her fingers.

“Good?” she asked. The word came out a little blurry — her tongue was tired.

“Get up here,” Nat replied, blurry as well.

Maria crawled up, pressing her wet mouth to various spots on Natasha’s body. She half-rolled to the side, but Nat grabbed her and kept her close, kissing her with no hesitation, slow and lush like she had when Maria brought her espresso — it felt like that was a lot longer than 36 hours ago.

When Nat finally sighed and rolled away like she was going to sleep, Maria reached past her, picked up her phone from the night stand, only remembering when the screen stayed dark that she’d turned it off before they left the reception.

“Don’t,” Nat mumbled into the pillow. “Leave it off.”

Maria chuckled, ducked down to kiss her cheek. “Okay,” she said, putting it back. “I was just going to cross you off my to-do list is all.”

“Is that right?” Natasha opened her eyes, gave Maria a skeptical look. “What’s next, then?”

“Well,” Maria began, reaching over again to turn off the lamp. It would be easier to ask in the dark. “I was thinking it’d be nice to blow my paycheque on a vacation — want to come with me?”

“I would,” Natasha replied, a smile in her voice. “Where do you want to go?”

 _Anywhere with you_ , Maria thought, but she didn’t say it. Instead, she snuggled up close to Nat’s back, gathering her up in her arms, and they talked about sun and sand until they fell asleep.


End file.
